Monday, August 29, 2016

Harlan
laughed hard. What a pleasure it had been, kicking Nevada off his
perch high aloft the shaft and into the black pit below. Now he could be
with his poor, beloved horse all he wanted, provided that he survived the fall,
which was unlikely, considering the distance.

He looked at the parchment in his hand. Now he had
the map and the wonderful realization he didn’t have to share its
treasure with anyone. But something was happening. He felt a jolt somewhere
within the cavern, then heard the tick! tick! tick! of a mechanism moving, and he quickly took up the
position Reno had vacated, leaning over the edge, peering into the darkness.

“Reno!” he shouted.

He waited for an answer but none came.

Gears were turning in the dark and then his body
jumped at the sound of a rapid succession of gunshots reverberating in his
ears, and just as he realized what the gunshots were, the sluice gate above him
slammed shut in a gunshot of its own, and before he could jump clear, the gate had
turned into a guillotine.

It severed his extended arm clean off at the
elbow.

He cried out in pain, grabbing the bloody stump where
his hand had been – the hand clutching the map – and blood gushed through his
fingers. In a panic, he ripped the bandana off his neck and wrapped it around
the wound as tears of sweat and pain filled his eyes.

Heaving in great gulps of air and fighting off a
wave of nausea and shock, he rested his great hulking mass against the cubby
hole wall.

Getting out of here wouldn’t be easy and he knew
he had to make his way to a doctor before he bled to death. The only comfort
was the knowledge of where the map had fallen. He could picture it now, in his
mind’s eye, lying in the pit alongside Reno’s broken body and the dead gargantuan
stallion.

Saturday, August 27, 2016

The front door of the cabin burst
open and Eve spun around in response, her heart leaping to her throat. The
Preacher jumped to his feet as Long Hawk instinctively drew his blade.

In the open doorway, covered in dust and sweat,
looking bloody and disheveled, stood Reno Nevada.

In one hand he held the Preacher’s rifle, its
muzzle still smoldering. In the other: a massive, winged creature – about three
times the size of an eagle – its face a grotesque mask of death. A long thick
tongue lolled from its gaping mouth.

Eve let out a gasp as the Preacher and Long Hawk
stood frozen in astonishment.

Reno tossed the creature on the floor at the old
man’s feet. It landed with a sickening thud. A moment of silence fell upon them
before Reno broke it.

“So when do we ride to Hell?”

The Preacher, startled, swallowed hard as he tried
to regain his composure. His gaze was still glued to the dead creature splayed
out on the wooden floor at his feet.

“Three, uh, three days from now,” he said,
stroking his chin absentmindedly.

Reno relaxed his shoulders and Eve noticed the
color return to his cheeks.

“Okay, ” he said, nodding his understanding.
“Three days from now. I can handle that.”

Her eyes met with his again and they held each
other’s gaze a long moment. Then he nodded goodbye, tipped his too-small hat to
her and exited the house, shutting the door behind him.

Eve turned to her father who lifted his uncertain
gaze toward hers. Their long-awaited journey was about to begin.